


Lemon Verbena

by Laura_Mayfair



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Community: bsg_epics, F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3411464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an exhausting week traveling with the President, Tom takes a bubble bath for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lemon Verbena

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bsg-epics. Prompt: Tom Zarek / Never have I ever taken a bubble bath. Thanks to singerdiva01_sk for the prompt.

Tom knew he’d paid too much for the item tucked inside the pocket of his pants but the generous sum he'd given made him feel less guilty about the frivolous purchase. He was fueling the sagging economy, he rationalized. Maybe he even deserved the little splurge -- a small consolation after having handed the presidency over to Laura Roslin. But what choice had he had?

The choice she’d given him, of course. _Vice President._

Well, at least it was _something,_ although he wasn’t dumb enough to believe her magnanimous offer was motivated by goodwill alone. She wanted to keep an eye on him. Installing him as her VP might be enough to mollify his supporters while further legitimizing her position. It was a smart move. He admired the woman’s scheming, even if he was at the receiving end of it. He couldn’t deny the brilliance of the gesture or the alluring way she’d presented it, all silky praise and beatific smiles.

_Mmmm, well played indeed, Madame President._

He might not be as susceptible to her charms as her loyal guard dog was but that didn’t mean he didn’t admire her tactics. Her unflagging support of the people on New Caprica had given him a new found respect for the enigmatic Laura Roslin, tenuous though it may be. They’d stared death down together and survived the strangling oppression of occupation. Misery, Tom knew, could form potent bonds, even in the most unlikely places.

Their alliance of convenience would last only as long as it suited them both. He had no illusions about that.

Who knows? Maybe they’d work well together. Tom wished he could have been a fly on the wall when Laura had told her devoted protector about the choice she’d made. _That_ must have gone over well.

From a ragtag prison ship to one of the Fleet’s last surviving luxury liners, Tom never dreamed he'd end up here. The aptly named _Zephyr_ had seen better days but it was still a cut above most of the other ships in the Fleet, for overdone opulence anyway.

What a week they’d had visiting ship after ship, smiling for the cameras at one press conference after another. He was glad this was their final destination before returning to _Colonial One_. He’d never really liked the schmoozing side of politics, although he knew he could rise to the occasion if it meant furthering his agenda. But he’d much rather be down in the trenches getting things done than kissing ass. At least Laura and he were both on the same page as far as that was concerned; her zeal was a welcome improvement over Baltar’s pathetic leadership.

The fact that she looked better in a suit than that skinny, beady-eyed bastard didn't exactly hurt either.

Tory had been the one to book their rooms. Two adjacent suites. The ghastly lime green furniture was a migraine waiting to happen but the promise of a real bed more than made up for the sickly neon decor. Tom couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept on anything other than a cot. In detention he’d spent most nights on a dirty concrete floor. The prospect of a bed was enough to make him downright giddy.

And then there was the bathtub. Finding out about the bathtub had initiated the impromptu purchase he’d made earlier. Tom slipped a hand inside his pocket and plucked out the tiny bottle of bubble bath. _Lemon verbena._ He’d prefer not to smell like a flower so he’d gone for the more neutral citrusy scent instead of all the floral alternatives. He wasn’t sure what verbena was, except that it sounded like something you’d find in an upscale Caprica boutique. A plant, he supposed. He was sure Laura would know but he wasn’t about to ask her. He’d look it up later. He hated not knowing something, even a small something. You never knew when a piece of knowledge could come in handy.

Tom had never taken a bubble bath, not that he could remember anyway. They’d had to conserve everything during the war -- food, supplies, water. The five minute showers he’d been limited to during his youth would seem like an extravagance next to what they allowed him in prison, when he was permitted to shower at all.

He'd rather not think about prison.

He poured the contents of the tiny bottle into the water and began taking off his clothes while the tub finished filling. The scent from the bath was delicious, lemony and fresh. Just enough zing and not too sweet. The bubbles reminded him of the meringue his mother made on special occasions when he was a kid, endless dollops of white fluff that were always light as air. He bent down to test the water one more time -- and then his phone rang.

Tom trudged into the bedroom and picked it up.

“Tom Zarek.”

“Hi, Tom. Tory had to adjust our schedules for tomorrow so I’ve added a few things to the agenda and taken a few things off. I know it’s late but I’d like to go over the changes with you.”

“Uh....yeah.” Tom felt his lemon meringue bubble dream pop. “I’m sort of in the middle of something, Laura. Can we do it in an hour?”

“’Sort of in the middle of something,’” parroted Laura. She sounded amused. “I have trouble imagining you ‘sort of’ anything. It’s so non-definitive.”

“Yeah, well my water’s getting cold and my bubbles are melting. And I’m standing here without a stitch of clothing on -- “

“That’s TMI,” said Laura briskly. “An hour would be fine. Just come over here when you’re finished...and dressed.”

Tom grinned. “You wanted me to be specific.”

“Yes, well, be careful what you wish for, I guess. Enjoy your bath. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Tom hung up the phone and slipped into the foamy water. It was better than anything he could have imagined, soothing sore muscles and easing stiff joints. He soaked in the tub until every last bubble disappeared, until the water grew tepid and cloudy.

As he patted himself dry, Tom replayed the exchange he’d had with Laura.

Nothing tepid there.

It was a dangerous line of thinking. Both tart and sweet.

And more than just a little bit irresistible.


End file.
